"Freya, just the two of us for hotpot is no fun. Bring your husband along, and I'll call Dean Farley too. Four people is much livelier."

On the other end of the line, Freya clearly hesitated. "Oh, come on, why drag the guys into a girls' get-together? There's so much we can't gossip about with them around. Besides, my husband's away on business, he can't make it, so don't bring your fiancé either..."

I rolled my eyes.

Not long ago, the moment Freya found out my fiancé was a wealthy, good-looking heir, she'd practically glued herself to my side every day, even quietly adding him on social media.

Now she was doing the opposite. My guess was she didn't want too many people around, in case it got in the way of her plan.

"Fine, just the two of us, then." I agreed with a smile.

"Perfect! I'll come find you right now!" Freya's voice was bright with excitement.

I glanced out the window. "Don't. It's raining out there. I'll drive over and pick you up."

Freya didn't think twice and agreed happily.

I hung up, crouched down, and stroked the stray cat's head.

Softly, I said, "Thank you."

Then I stood, changed my clothes, and headed out.

Half an hour later, my car pulled up outside Freya's building.

She came hurrying over under an umbrella in a loose hoodie, her belly hidden completely, and slid into the passenger seat.

Her makeup was flawless, but the shadows under her eyes were too dark to cover.

No surprise there. Early pregnancy made you drowsy and worn out to begin with, and with a scheme weighing on her conscience, there was no way she'd been sleeping well.

"Let's get going, I'm starving." Freya buckled her seatbelt. "Just thinking about the tripe and duck intestines at your place makes my mouth water."

I didn't answer, just started the car.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a newly opened hotpot restaurant.

Freya froze. "Cora, this isn't your family's place."

I cut the engine, smiling. "It's the weekend. Our restaurant's swamped today. I was worried slow service would spoil your appetite. This place just opened, and a friend told me it's really authentic."

Freya's expression stiffened for a split second. "But I'm used to the taste of your family's hotpot..."

I pulled open the passenger door and looked at her with a smile. "My treat tonight. I went out of my way to take you somewhere nicer. What, you're being picky now?"

She had no comeback, so she had no choice but to get out.

I thought to myself: not eating at my family's hotpot place this time. Let's see how you manage to frame anyone now.

Still, I kept my guard up. Before going in, I detoured to the back kitchen first.

The owner was a heavyset man in his forties, busy slicing beef. Seeing me peek in, he gave a good-natured laugh. "Something I can help you with, miss?"

"Sir, is your hotpot safe for a pregnant woman?"

The owner thumped his chest in assurance. "Don't you worry! All our ingredients are bought fresh the same day, guaranteed. We keep a sample of every table's broth, the cameras run twenty-four hours a day. Pregnant women, kids, the elderly, anyone can eat here. If anything goes wrong, it's on me!"

That put me a little more at ease. When I got back to the table, Freya was looking at the menu.

Seeing me return, she set down her phone, her gaze suddenly landing on the drink in front of me. "Cora, what's in your cup? It looks really good."

Guessing she was setting a trap for me, I immediately picked up the cup and took a sip. "Lemon passionfruit."

Then I called the server over and ordered her an identical one.

Freya's expression caught for a beat, then she smiled. "No need to stand on ceremony with me. Let's just swap and share."

"I've got a cold. Don't want to give it to you."

Freya drank a few sips of the new drink. Everything was normal.

I quietly checked my phone. Seven fifty.

Ten minutes left until the miscarriage time the stray cat had warned about.

The broth arrived, red oil rolling, the spicy aroma hitting my nose.

Freya picked up a slice of tripe and swished it in the pot, quick and practiced, not a trace of the way a pregnant woman is supposed to watch what she eats.

But I noticed that before she picked up anything for herself, she used the serving chopsticks to put a piece into my bowl first.

It all came out of the same pot. Nothing about it looked wrong.

I played along and ate a few bites.

A few minutes later, my stomach twisted with a sudden, wrenching cramp.

My brow knotted tight, and cold sweat broke out all at once.

"Cora, what's wrong?" Freya leaned in, her face all concern. "You went pale so fast."

"My stomach hurts. I need to use the restroom." I pushed back my chair and stood, my legs a little unsteady.

"Want me to come with you?" She made as if to rise, but something gleeful flickered deep in her eyes.

"No need." I waved her off and rushed for the restroom.

The second I crouched down, it hit me like a tidal wave.

Clutching my stomach, I suddenly realized something. My lemon passion fruit drink, the one Freya had hinted she wanted to trade with me, the one I'd turned down. Before she ever said a word, her fingers had already brushed the rim of my glass.

Had she slipped a laxative into my drink ahead of time, timing it so I'd be away from the table?

This was bad.

I straightened my clothes as fast as I could and pushed the door open.

At the end of the hallway, the dining room had already dissolved into chaos.

Freya was slumped in her chair, bright red blood running down between her legs, sliding along the seat and dripping onto the white floor tiles. The sight turned my stomach.

Her face was bloodless, both hands pressed to her belly, broken moans escaping her lips.

"Oh my God! Someone's having a miscarriage!" A woman at the next table shrieked.

"Call 911! Is there something wrong with this restaurant's food?"

Gus came barreling out of the kitchen, his face gone gray. "Impossible! There is nothing wrong with my ingredients! I'm calling the police right now!"

I hurried over, and just as I opened my mouth, Freya lifted her head.

Her face was streaked with tears, and one trembling hand rose to point at me.

"Cora... we've been like sisters for over ten years... why would you hurt my baby..."

The whole room went silent in an instant.

Every pair of eyes swung to me at once.

A chill crawled up my spine. "Freya, what are you talking about?"

Through her tears, Freya pointed at an open box of braised duck on the corner of the table. "You brought this duck, said it was a new item from your family's restaurant... to celebrate that I was pregnant... I ate two bites and my stomach started hurting..."

"I did not!" The words burst out of me. "I never brought any duck! You told me yourself you weren't pregnant. How could I possibly..."

"I told you the moment I found out I was pregnant!" Freya's sobbing shot up an octave. "I trusted you that much! Why would you do this to me? Just because I married a husband who adores me, and I'm carrying a son... you're jealous enough to do this?"

"Jealous of you?" I was shaking with rage. "In what way is my fiancé any less than your husband? Why would I need to be jealous of you?"

"Then how do you explain this box of duck?" An older woman nearby had had enough, pointing at the braised meat on the table. "Young lady, did you bring it or not? The cameras will show it, won't they? Have the owner pull the footage!"

Gus had already run back to the kitchen, dripping with sweat, and was out again in under a minute, holding up a tablet.

He turned the screen around to face the whole room. "The duck really did come out of this girl's bag!"

On the screen, I was sitting at the table, pulling a brown paper bag out of my purse and setting it down in front of Freya.

My mind went blank with a roar, like something detonating inside it.

That was me on the screen. But I had never done this.

"And there's this." Gus swiped the screen again. "Riley up front tried to stop her, said we don't allow outside food, but this girl said her best friend was pregnant and had a craving for it, so Riley let it go."

The girl at the front desk nodded, her eyes rimmed red. “That's exactly what she said at the time……”

I opened my mouth to explain, but the evidence was airtight.

Had I lost my memory? Had I really brought the duck for her?

But why couldn't I remember a single thing about it?

Right then, Freya's husband Tyler Dickerson came charging into the hotpot house.

He wore a rumpled jacket, dark circles under his eyes, and the second he was through the door he threw himself down beside Freya. “Babe! What happened to you!”

Something startled flickered in Freya's eyes, and her lips trembled. “Honey……weren't you away on a work trip……how are you back……”

But the next second she was crying even harder. “Our baby's gone……it's all my fault, I didn't protect him……it was Cora……”

Hearing that, Tyler whipped his head around and glared at me, his eyes shot through with red.

He grabbed a chair beside him and was about to hurl it when two male customers pinned him down hard.

“You bitch! My wife's pregnant, and you still bring her out for the spiciest hotpot? You did it on purpose, didn't you?”

“Now my son is gone! Either you pay up, or you pay with your life!”

He roared, veins bulging at his temples.

Freya clung to her husband, weeping like a willow in the rain. :

“It's not entirely Cora's fault……that box of braised duck, her parents made it with their own hands……and it killed our son……”

Tyler bellowed, “Then her parents can go to the grave with him!”

The fury of everyone around us caught fire completely.

“This is murder! A poisonous friend like her deserves to rot in hell!”

“That hotpot house her parents run needs to be looked into too! What kind of decent person could a family like that ever raise!”

“I know the address! I looked it up! Let's go over right now and trash the place!”

Someone actually pulled out a phone and started up the directions, ready to go wreck the restaurant.

Someone else got ready to livestream the whole thing.

I watched it all unfold, my hands and feet going cold.

I'd switched restaurants, I'd prepared for everything, so why had it still come to this?

Cradled in her husband's arms, a faint, almost imperceptible flash of triumph crossed Freya's weak face.

She looked at the diners around her holding up their phones to livestream the spectacle, and at the patrol car outside, its lights flashing, its siren growing clearer by the second.

I suddenly smiled, and walked up to Freya.

She shrank back warily. “What are you trying to do? I even begged my husband to go easy on you……”

I said nothing. I just reached out and unpinned the little silver brooch from her chest.

It was a brooch shaped like a butterfly.

I'd pinned it onto her hoodie with my own hands earlier today when I picked her up, telling her it was a souvenir I'd brought back from my trip.

The moment Freya saw it was a designer piece, she'd been over the moon.

What she didn't know was that there was a pinhole camera set inside that brooch.

From the moment she got in the car until now, every image and every sound had been recorded.

Including exactly where that box of duck had come from.

In fact, even Tyler, this testosterone-fueled brute who owed a million in online loans and beat Freya every single day, had been quietly brought here by someone I'd sent.

His wife was about to put on a big show at the hotpot house tonight, so as her husband, how could he not be present?

And his arrival was the biggest variable in Freya's plan.

In this life, I would never again let him become the blade in Freya's hand that killed my parents!

I held the brooch up in my palm, displaying it to the crowd, then opened the monitoring app on my phone. :

“Everything that really happened is recorded right here. Does everyone want to see it?”

At those words, the color drained from Freya's face in an instant.

Heedless of how weak her body was, she lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. :

“Don't! Cora, I'm begging you!”

Tyler stalled for a beat, then flung her hand off him. "She killed our son. I'm not letting her off! What are you scared of? Let her play it!"